just reason to adopt the language of Job, and say, "Oh that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me, when his candle shined upon my head, and when by his light I walked through darkness!" You then could say, it was sweeter to you to converse upon the dying love of a Saviour, than your necessary food; could tell what sweet communion you had in retirement, and in the holy ordinances; how constantly you walked in the light of God's countenance, and how refreshing to your taste was the word of his grace. Certainly there is a cause for this surprising change, and where shall we look for it? Is it not because you have never been made fully sensible of your dependence upon the sovereign grace of God, for the enlivening and animating influences of his Holy Spirit, and therefore had too much confidence in your own strength, and have not yet been made sensible of your weakness? But if you are a Christian, and not self-deceived, you will, in God's time, be brought out of this lifeless condition; but how much sorrow of heart you must undergo first, God only knows. You may be made to realize the truth of Solomon's observation first, "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmities; but a wounded spirit, who can bear? The sooner you come to a sense of your condition, and exert yourself, the less will be your trouble and sorrow, and the easier your emancipation effected. You can gain nothing but additional sorrow by delay. Delays in spiritual con

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cerns are always attended with peculiar danger. Perhaps you are already alarmed, and begin to ask, What shall I do? Return, my friend, with all your heart unto your heavenly Father. He first brought you out of nature's darkness into his marvellous light; and if you look again to him with contrition of spirit, his unbounded mercy will be again exercised towards you. Perhaps you will say, you cannot return. You cannot have too strong a sense of your inability. It has been a want of a sense of your own weakness, that has occasioned your fall. But come now and open your heart to a conviction of your guilt and ingratitude towards your kind Sovereign and Redeemer, who has bought you with his most precious blood. Consider how little you have done for that infinitely benevolent Redeemer, who hath done so much for you, and whom you are bound to serve with body and spirit, which are his. We are not our own; we are bought with a price. You must be deeply affected with your declension, and repent with humility and brokenness of heart, and your merciful Father in heaven will pity and forgive, and restore you to his divine favour. It is, indeed, painful to reflect upon the occasion of blasphemy which the backsliding of Christians affords; but sincere confessions, and repentance that is attested by future reformation and renewed obedience, and meek and patient submission to the rebukes of their offended heavenly Father, may, in some degree, heal

the wounds their backslidings inflicted upon the cause of religion. Return then, my sister, and pray with David, “Examine me, O Lord; prove me; try my reins, and my heart." Let us be suspicious of our own hearts-they are deceitful and desperately wicked. Every Christian should be as suspicious of his heart, as David was of the Keilites. When he had every reason to suppose that he might put confidence in the fidelity of the Keilites, having before saved them in war; yet he so well knew the human heart, that when Saul was coming to Keilah to take him, he did not so much as ask them whether they would defend him; but immediately had inquiry made at the mouth of the Lord, and received an answer that convinced him of the justness of his suspicions. So we ought ever to repair to that God who knows the secrets of all hearts, and pray earnestly to have him open to our view the inmost recesses of our hearts, lest we roll some sin as a sweet morsel under our tongue, unrepented of. As a small leak will sink the greatest vessel, so one sin habitually indulged, without repentance, will ruin the soul for ever.-I trust you will excuse my plainness and freedom of writing, believing my motives to be disinterested and benevalec. Nothing could have induced me to be nus plain and faithful, but the hope of promoting your spiritual and eternal interests. Oh that I might see you raised, by the influ ences of the Holy Spirit, to the mount, where

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you may enjoy that sweet peace and consolation, that the world can neither give, nor take away. If these lines could be made of as real and lasting advantage to you, as a few words you once spoke, were to me, you will have much occasion to bless God for them.

Yours, in the fellowship of the gospel.

DEAR CHILD,

S. COLEMAN.

Amherst, June 16, 1806.

Being ever filled with the warmest anxiety for the spiritual, as well as temporal good of my children, I am constantly prompted to improve every opportunity to drop something that may, by the blessing of God, stimulate them in the all-important concerns of their soul's salvation. It is very affecting to see the awful insensibility of mankind, upon this momentous subject. By far the greater part, even of those who live under the clear sunshine of the Gospel, are willing to live in utter uncertainty about their future state. But this by no means lessens the importance of the subject. It ought rather to excite us to the greater diligence, to make our own calling and election sure, as well as to pray for them, and use all the means in our power for their awakening. Alas, for the stupid multitude! How presumptuously do they console themselves, with the idea, that, if they are finally lost, they shall do as well as others! How little do

they consider, that numbers, instead of dimin. ishing, will only aggravate their misery? But their stupidity is not greater than that of the professor of religion, who has patched up a hope of an interest in the Divine favour, that will just serve to ease his mind, while death is at a distance, and the world goes well with him. But how often does the near approach of death, distress and affright him, and cause him to tremble, for fear of being at last lost for ever! Oh, what would he then give for "an assurance of hope," and the precious light of God's countenance! Before, when the light of worldly prosperity and pleasure was enjoyed, this was little thought of; but now, in an extremity, he cries unto God. Ah! if the divine Saviour of sinners must cry out, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" what little reason have such to expect that their abused God will hear and favour them? None ought to expect the favour of God, when in distress, who have neglected him when they were in ease and comfort. Life and health must be improved in the service of God, if we would have the consolations of his Spirit in sickness and death.

I have been obliged to suspend writing for a while, by reason of the eclipse of the sun. The earth covered with sackcloth by the interposition of the moon, is a striking emblem of the state of a Christian, when the cares or pleasures of the world prevent the light of God's countenance from shining upon his soul.